Private Leviathan Fallen

[Darth Imperius]

Rakata Prime |
Fount of the Slave | Rakata Prime
Serina Calis

The savage leftovers of the Rakatan Infinite Empire, now degraded and devolved into brutal, cannibalistic tribes, called the place the 'Fount of the Slave' in its not so inconsiderate reflection that their ancient genes still considered most other species as slaves, even though they barely could write their own names. The Fount was a large metal carcass, a field of debris that once rained from the heavens in a fateful day nearly five millennia ago. Since then it had succumbed to jungle plants, rust and rancors nesting in it.

The place was engulfed in the screams of death, only hearable to those attuned to the Force, as the atrocities happened even before the Fount was erected. The Dark side reigned supreme here, the Force was vibrant with it, offering a mixture of terror and temptation to those who visited this place. But who would? Rakata Prime was more or less deemed lost and forgotten by large parts of the Galaxy, the Jedi having made sure that it would not stir any curiosity.

Darth Imperius had studied Rakata technology on expeditions here and to Belsavis before, but returned to find something else, something more. He had heard of the Fount of the Slave, but despite its allure, could not see any potential gains in a place like such. Until his research came to an interesting conclusion. The Fount of the Slave are parts of the warship Leviathan, the flagship of Darth Malak which was destroyed in the Battle of Rakata Prime.

The Vehemence landed on a clearing not far from the entrance to the Fount, the crimson gaze of the Sith Lord briefly observing the destination across the controls of his shuttle before he stood up and moved out to explore it himself.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

Serina Calis stood at the edge of the clearing, her pale blue eyes reflecting the crimson hues of the setting sun filtering through the dense canopy of Rakata Prime's jungle. The air was heavy with humidity and the pungent scent of decaying foliage. She was alone in this desolate place, except for the faint, flickering holographic image of Darth Malak that floated above her activated holocron. The Sith Lord's spectral form stood with arms crossed, his face locked in an expression that oscillated between amusement and faint disdain.

"I'll say this for the Rakata," Malak mused, his voice deep and tinged with sarcasm. "They knew how to make an impression. Nothing says galactic domination like a bunch of slave-driven monstrosities that crumble under their own arrogance."

Serina smirked, brushing a stray strand of golden hair from her face as she crouched to examine a half-buried shard of scorched metal protruding from the jungle floor. It was etched with faint markings, the remnants of ancient Rakatan script. "And yet here we are," she replied, her tone light but laced with curiosity. "Picking through their leftovers like scavengers. Poetic, don't you think?"

Malak tilted his head slightly, the hologram flickering as if in contemplation. "Not poetic. Practical. The Star Forge itself was the ultimate testament to the Force's potential—limitless creation, driven by ambition and the strength to seize it. But the Rakata lacked discipline. That's what brought them down."

Serina chuckled softly, standing and dusting off her hands. "Discipline is such a favorite Sith word, isn't it? You all act like the galaxy is some unruly classroom waiting for a stern teacher."

Malak's image flickered again, and for a moment, there was a faint hint of a smile on his otherwise stern visage. "Amusing. Coming from the Jedi who sneaks into Sith ruins to unlock secrets her Order wants forgotten. Tell me, Padawan, does your Master know you're here? Or is this yet another… independent study?"

"Independent study," Serina quipped, her voice dripping with mock formality. "It sounds so academic when you put it that way." She gestured toward the looming wreckage of the Fount, its jagged metal carcass rising like a grave marker against the horizon. "But you must admit, Malak, this place has a certain... charm. The screams in the Force are a nice touch. Really adds to the ambiance."

The Sith Lord's spectral gaze narrowed. "You joke, but the Dark Side is no trivial matter. This place is steeped in suffering and power. It will test you, whether you realize it or not."

Serina's expression sobered slightly as she turned her gaze toward the Fount. She could feel it, the oppressive weight of the Dark Side pressing against her senses like a tidal wave. It wasn't fear that gripped her—it was temptation, a siren's call promising understanding, control, and mastery. For a moment, her fingers lingered on the holocron, as if seeking its cold surface for reassurance.

"Then it's a good thing I brought a guide," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "Besides, you're not worried about me, are you, Malak?"

Malak's projection let out a low, sardonic chuckle. "Concern is not in my nature, Padawan. But I would prefer you don't get yourself killed before proving my teachings correct. It would be… inconvenient."

With that, Serina adjusted the utility belt slung around her waist and began to stride toward the Fount's entrance, her every step deliberate and calm. The jungle seemed to quiet as she approached, the oppressive atmosphere of the wreckage swallowing the natural sounds of the planet. Her hand brushed against her lightsaber hilt, not out of fear but habit. She wasn't here to fight. Not yet.

"Come on, Malak," she said over her shoulder, her tone light but tinged with determination. "Let's see what's left of your old stomping grounds. I'm sure the Leviathan has a few stories to tell."

As the ominous hum of the Vehemence's engines descended into silence, Serina Calis quickly deactivated her holocron, slipping the artifact into a concealed pouch on her utility belt. Her golden blonde hair, still glinting faintly in the dying sunlight, was brushed hastily over her shoulder as she straightened her Jedi robes. There was no point in trying to mask her identity—not in these robes, not here.

She could feel the weight of the Dark Side emanating from the shuttle even before its ramp lowered, mingling with the already oppressive atmosphere of the Fount. Her hand instinctively grazed her lightsaber hilt but didn't linger. This wasn't a moment for rashness. The presence she sensed, calm yet potent, was unmistakable: a Sith.

The ramp of the Vehemence lowered with a hiss of hydraulics, revealing the crimson-clad figure of Darth Imperius. His stride was confident, his gaze calculating as it scanned the clearing and landed on her. The stark contrast of her beige and brown robes against the dark jungle backdrop made her impossible to miss. Serina straightened her posture and stepped forward, projecting as much poise as she could muster.

"Greetings," she began, her voice steady but calm, carrying across the clearing. "I am Serina Calis, Padawan of the Jedi Order." She hesitated only briefly, choosing her next words with care. "I didn't expect to find company here, let alone... such esteemed company."

 

[Darth Imperius]

Fount of the Slave | Rakata Prime
Serina Calis

He stepped down the ramp with calm, clanking steps. His sabatons engraved in the same Sith runes as the rest of his armor which clad him to his very head, a helmet adorning it, crimson lenses looking down on her. He was more than a meter taller than the Padawan who stood there, his armor beneath the dark red tabard only magnifying the different of height and presence. She almost blended into nature, at least thats what Jedi robes ought to do, yet in the lush green jungle they were quite misplaced.

Darth Imperius listened to her greeting and her silken, sarcastic address but ignored it, even ignored her for a moment as his helmet, half shrouded below the hood, looked around. He had felt it, hears an echo of it. Someone or something was here, aside from the remnants of a battle long gone and potential secrets it held.

"Who is with you?" The question shot forward in an imperious tone, uttered in a measured, slow pace by his gravelly voice, further distorted by the helmet. The Force further carried his question, making it arrive as a command in the young Jedi's. An action he did not think about but could answers both the question he posed as well as how formidable her mind was.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

Serina Calis remained composed, though the oppressive presence of Darth Imperius weighed heavily on her. The Sith Lord's commanding tone, amplified by the Force, brushed against her consciousness like a cold wind seeking entry. Yet, Serina's mind, sharpened by years of meditation and tempered by her ambition, resisted the subtle compulsion. She straightened her posture, her piercing blue eyes locking onto the crimson lenses of his helmet.

"No one is with me, apart from the shrieks that sporadically occur in the Force." she replied evenly, her voice calm but firm, carrying a touch of the Jedi serenity she knew the Sith despised. "I prefer solitude when studying the past. Fewer interruptions, you understand."

Her words were measured, choosing a tone that was neither submissive nor openly defiant. She knew better than to antagonize a Sith Lord outright, especially one as formidable as this. But she also knew the strength of holding one's ground in the face of power.

"But I suspect you already know that," she continued, tilting her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You would have sensed if there were others. So, is this about confirming my honesty, or merely testing me?"

Her fingers rested lightly at her side, near the concealed holocron in her utility belt. The weight of Darth Malak's teachings lingered in her thoughts: Be wary, Padawan. The Sith have a way of making every conversation a duel.

She felt the oppressive energy of the Dark Side surrounding Darth Imperius like a storm cloud, its tendrils probing for weakness. But Serina felt that she was no stranger to its allure, nor its tactics. She had studied it, dissected it, even allowed herself to feel its whispers without succumbing. Now, she would see if her knowledge was enough.

"I'm here to uncover the truth of the past," she added, her gaze unwavering. "The question is: what brings you to the Fount of the Slave? Surely someone of your stature has more pressing matters than ancient wreckage and forgotten relics."

 

[Darth Imperius]

Fount of the Slave | Rakata Prime
Serina Calis

She was lying. Lying well and her mind braced the inquiry. It crossed his for a moment how he could dissect hers, both physically and mentally, carving it open to reveal the truth and all the meaningless memories and secrets this individual held dear. She stood her ground and for the time being he gave her the credit for that. It did not change the fact that he looked at her like anything other than a dim light next to his own being as a star.

"Your resilience has earned you respite, but do not stretch my patience with impertinent questions." His voice did not change, even though he was not amplifying it with his mental power anymore.

Her presence was curious to say the least, it was what stayed his hand. There was a mixture of control and curiosity that was intriguing, especially in such a young specimen of the deluded order. She was hiding far more from herself than she was from the outside world and considering her mental fortitude, it was a capable spirit.

"'The truth of the past.' For someone who has access to the deep lores and vast shelves of the Jedi Library, you seem to pose little trust in your masters teachings and honesty."

"Importance is not measured by age or what lingers on the surface. And yielding control to others over what might be buried beneath is a sure way to lose it."

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

Serina Calis inclined her head slightly, acknowledging his words without submission. His gaze bore down on her like a physical weight, but she refused to wilt under it. His calculated observation of her intentions and his veiled condescension only fueled her determination to hold her ground. She folded her hands neatly in front of her, a gesture of composure that belied the tension in the air.

"You're not wrong," she began, her voice calm, deliberate. "The Jedi teachings are vast, their archives unparalleled. But the truth... the whole truth, is often obscured by the perspectives of those who curate it. Even in the Temple, certain knowledge is deemed too dangerous, too corrupting, to be shared freely."

Her piercing blue eyes met the crimson lenses of his helmet, unflinching. "I'm not here because I distrust my Masters. I'm here because I seek understanding—an understanding that can't be confined to curated wisdom or sanitized histories. If that makes me a poor student of the Jedi, so be it. But I've found that growth often lies in what we're told to avoid."

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. She had no illusions about the risks of engaging in such a conversation with a Sith Lord, but she also knew the value of showing strength in the face of power. Her tone shifted slightly, taking on a measured curiosity.

"As for control…" Serina's lips curved into a faint, enigmatic smile. "You and I may disagree on its definition, but I would argue it's not so easily relinquished. Control is as much internal as external. It's the ability to choose—to walk into the unknown not because someone else compels you, but because you will it."

Her hand brushed lightly against the edge of her utility belt, a subconscious motion as she continued. "That's why I'm here. To uncover what others would prefer remain forgotten. Not because I was sent, but because I chose to. Surely someone like you can appreciate the value of such initiative."

Her words were a calculated blend of truth and subtle defiance, wrapped in a cloak of composure. She knew he would see through any outright falsehood, so she gave him a version of her truth, layered with the implication that she, too, sought power and understanding—not so different from a Sith, after all. It was a dangerous line to walk, but Serina had never been one to shy away from a challenge.

 

[Darth Imperius]

Serina Calis

Imperius scoffed. Another one, this time some Light side brat, who was intent on giving him lectures while barely a blink of an eye had passed since she was able to walk. It was ridiculous that this nobody considered herself wise enough to share what she perceived as experience or knowledge and yet had followed a dogma that was the polar opposite of enlightenment.

"You may impress the initiates of your temple with your shallow definitions and childishly progressive views, but make no mistake that you have no idea of what control means nor how to exercise it."

It was a judgement, offering a certain disdain for her little lesson and considering it nothing but youthful arrogance and misguided wisdom. He was not offended or annoyed, he was amused and entertained by the prospect of revealing her misguidance. That is when he started pacing towards her. His voice became lower, deeper and less loud with every word he spoke.

"I am sure your little trip here, your inclination to disobey and something else you see as very precious, very rebellious even, make you think that you are indeed in control of your own fate and actions. But it is a petty illusion, a trap set by your own mind out of despair for your mind is anchored with your own comfort, with being safe within the Jedi and with being superior, both in being to those around you and by what you can access. One strike and it comes crushing down on you, one misstep and all your self-determination crumbles in itself."

Once he reached her, he moved to circle around her, though stopping behind her back.

"You think you have resisted the Dark side's allure by your strength of mind and clear goals, but it is already within you. I can feel it. There is a line drawn by your peers and you have crossed it already with your secret that you guard so well."

Darth Imperius turned towards the Fount of the Slave, the wreckage remains of a long lost warship and destination of his reason to be here.

"I will not stop you from following your misguided path for it will lead you far further and far deeper into the Darkness than you can imagine, even with my revelation here and now, your fate is sealed."

And with that, he began walking towards the jungle and ruins.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

Serina Calis stood motionless as Darth Imperius's words hung in the humid, oppressive air of Rakata Prime. His voice, now fading with the sound of his retreating steps, left her grappling with a storm of thoughts. She clenched her jaw, her piercing blue eyes narrowing as her mind replayed his statements, dissecting their meaning and intent.

His disdain for her, his sharp dismissal of her control, and, most of all, his final words—it all struck deep. Your fate is sealed. It was an assertion, not a suggestion, and it gnawed at her. Serina didn't know who this Sith Lord was, but his presence was unlike anything she'd encountered before. His towering form, the calm certainty with which he spoke, the way he seemed to peer into her very soul—all of it unnerved her. But even as unease threatened to surface, it was quickly overtaken by something far more potent: defiance.

She let out a slow breath, her hands clasped behind her back tightening briefly before relaxing. So that's how it is, then? A Sith proclaiming her doom with the same certainty the Jedi spoke of destiny. It would have been laughable if it didn't feel so personal. Yet, despite his attempt to dictate her path, the words didn't feel like a chain around her neck—they felt like a challenge.

Her gaze fell momentarily to the ground as she considered his accusations. He had touched on truths she wouldn't openly admit, not even to herself. Yes, she had disobeyed her Order. Yes, she had secrets. And yes, she felt the pull of the Dark Side, though she would never name it as such in her thoughts. She told herself it was curiosity, a thirst for knowledge, an ambition to rise above the limitations of Jedi dogma. But to have those unspoken parts of herself laid bare by a stranger? It was unsettling. She drew in another breath, steadying herself.

He thinks he knows me, she thought, a faint smirk forming. Thinks he can see my future, my failures, my fall. But what does he truly know?

The smirk faded as her thoughts darkened. If her fate was indeed sealed—if the whispers of destiny meant her ambition would lead her down a path into shadow—then so be it. But if she was to walk such a path, it wouldn't be as some tragic figure swallowed by the Dark Side. It wouldn't be as another forgotten name in the galaxy's endless cycle of fallen Jedi and power-hungry Sith. If this was her path, then she would master it. No fate, no prophecy, no Sith Lord would dictate the measure of her greatness. If she was to be consumed by the Dark Side, then she would consume it in turn, bending it to her will.

Her eyes lifted to the massive wreckage of the Fount of the Slave. The jagged, rusted remains of the Leviathan loomed nearby like a warning, but to Serina, it was an invitation. This was what she had come for—answers, knowledge, the next step on her journey. And perhaps Darth Imperius was right. Perhaps her fascination with what lay beyond the Jedi's teachings had already crossed some line. But what of it? The line, if it existed, had no bearing on her ambition. It was just another boundary to surpass.

The Sith Lord's figure grew smaller as he strode toward the ruins, his crimson tabard blending with the shadows of the jungle. Serina straightened, adjusting her utility belt and taking a final glance at her surroundings. Her thoughts crystallized into a singular conclusion: she would not be cowed by him or anyone else. If he thought her path was sealed, she would make that path her own, reshaping it with every step.

She moved forward, her boots crunching softly on the jungle floor as she quickened her pace to catch up with him. Her presence was quieter than his, but she made no attempt to mask it. If he noticed her approach, he gave no indication. She kept her distance, a respectful gap between them, but she walked with him nonetheless, her head held high.

As they approached the edge of the Fount, Serina finally broke the silence, her voice calm but resolute. "If my fate is sealed, as you say, then I will face it. But don't mistake acceptance for submission." She glanced toward him, her blue eyes glinting in the dim light. "I will be the one to shape what that fate looks like. Destiny, the Jedi, the Sith—they don't own me. My ambition will see me rise above them all, no matter the cost."

She didn't expect a response, nor did she need one. She was speaking as much to herself as to him, solidifying the fire within her. With every step closer to the Fount of the Slave, the oppressive weight of the Dark Side grew stronger, its whispers clearer. But rather than recoil, Serina embraced the sensation, letting it flow around her like a storm she would one day command.

She didn't know what lay within the Fount or what this man sought, but she intended to find out—and she intended to leave with more than she came for.

 

[Darth Imperius]

Serina Calis

His sabatons cracked wood, stone and debris laying on the jungle floor, paying it no heed. He walked with a destination ahead but it was clear that the Force had added to or superseded his goals for this trip. Ahead lay potential secrets to uncovering more Rakata technology, offering a further infusion of technology with the Dark side. Cleaner and yet more terrible than Alchemy, potentially its predecessor.

But the girl, she was intriguing. Darth Imperius walked away from her, showing no care for her attacking him at all, but it was not his ignorance of her strength that made him do it. He was curious. Curious if she would follow him. If her curiosity, if her willpower was stronger than her reasonability. He was certain that he made her tumble, that he cracked some of that self-righteous self she was carrying around, but if she saw and realised or if she defied, made the difference.

And defiance she chose. A slight smirk curling the lips of the Dark Lord below his helmet.

She was strong. Her power of will and of her ambition could carry her far. But she was painfully naive, her words so rebellious and all for the simple idea of disagreeing. There was a lot she could learn, could see, could be taught.

"The Sith, the Jedi, destiny are the words used by those who lack a greater understanding of the universe. And to deny their influence on the spinning of this Galaxy, is a statement done by a fool. Do you believe hundreds of generations of people have been pushed into the eternal conflict with no true victor because they wanted to? Do you believe that councils of fools or mindless tyrants rule the Galaxy since millennia because there was no-one before you to resist, to try to break the wheel?"

His voice delivered the questions calmly, his voice gravelly and distorted with a hint of amusement. It was a sad truth he had accepted when he accepted himself as part of the wheel. The Sith at least had the courtesy of not standing in stark antagonism to nature, their enlightenment being dread and death, rather than ill-conceived harmony and false peace. Imperius would take the wheel, he would eradicate all weakness from the Sith Order, crush the Alliance and Jedi. But to believe to end the cycle? It was a fools errant he had followed for too long. The Wardens were failures, Sith in disguise led by a misguided assassin and before led by a degenerate Sith.

The thoughts had drifted quite far but he returned to the here and now. His gaze set on the trees ahead that harbored the entrance to the wreckage, nothing more than a mere hole in the hull of the former warship. Gifts, donations, totems placed on rocks and makeshift tables were guarding the entrance, offered by the leftover of the Rakata.

"Darth Empyrean, Darth Tacitus, Darth Krayt, Darth Sidious, Marka Ragnos, King Adas ... they all thought they had fate in their hands, controlled destiny by controlling Empire's, vast powers beyond belief and yet, they are dead or soon to be. All Sith, the most powerful beings in history." He stopped and looked at the broken, rusting shape of the once-Interdictor-class. "Darth Revan, Malak. None had the wisdom to understand how meaningless they were, nor to accept that only by leaving behind everything that they could not be meaningless." A riddle? A test? Imperius had a certain point of view, an idea and ideology that was yet to be revealed.

"Yoda, Skywalker, Shan, Revan again, the Hero of Tython - you will find even less examples and only of far more pathetic impact on the Light side. The Force does enough to balance it, the Force is conflict. It does enough to not let one side win and as a result the Galaxy and maybe even the universe is caught in eternal strife."

"Do you believe that by breaking some meaningless rules, by being defiant to yourself, you will outdo what they achieved?"

His gaze turned at her, the dark red of his helmet's lenses staring motionlessly, soullessly at her.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

Serina Calis walked in measured steps behind the Sith Lord, the oppressive weight of his words settling over her like the humid air of Rakata Prime's jungle. His voice was calm, gravelly, but carried an undeniable weight—every question, every observation, a deliberate attempt to probe her resolve. Yet, Serina did not falter. She listened, letting his words twist and turn in her mind, searching for truth in the riddles he offered.

As he spoke of the Sith and Jedi of legend, their monumental powers, their ultimate failures, Serina felt her heart quicken. Not from fear, but from realization. He spoke of cycles, of inevitability, of a Force-bound conflict that had turned the galaxy into an endless battlefield. But as he painted a grim picture of eternal strife and futility, Serina felt the embers of defiance within her grow into a roaring flame.

When he finally turned to her, his soulless crimson lenses boring into her, she did not avert her gaze. Instead, she squared her shoulders, her piercing blue eyes locking onto his helmet with unyielding determination. His questions demanded answers, and Serina was prepared to give them.

"No," she began, her voice steady, though laced with a quiet intensity. "I don't believe breaking a few rules or defying tradition will make me greater than those who came before. I'm not naive enough to think rebellion alone will shatter the chains of destiny."

She paused, taking a deliberate step closer, her golden hair catching the faint light filtering through the jungle canopy. Her voice grew stronger, her conviction sharpening with every word.

"But neither am I foolish enough to accept your conclusions. You speak of cycles and inevitability, of a galaxy condemned to conflict because the Force wills it so. You paint the Jedi and Sith alike as pawns of some grand cosmic balance, destined to rise and fall in endless repetition. Maybe you're right. Maybe the Force itself is the wheel, spinning endlessly, crushing everything beneath it."

Her hand moved instinctively to her belt, brushing against the concealed holocron. The artifact felt cold beneath her touch, a reminder of the power she sought and the path she had already chosen to walk. Her next words were spoken with quiet ferocity, the fire in her heart blazing through her calm demeanor.

"But I will not be part of that cycle. I will not play the roles written for me by Jedi dogma or Sith ambition. I will not be another name on your list of failures—no matter how legendary they may be."

She stepped past him, her gaze fixed on the rusted wreckage of the Leviathan, its jagged edges rising like the remnants of a fallen titan. Her voice softened, but the intensity remained.

"I see it now. The Force isn't a guide. It's not a destiny. It's a tool. A power that has enslaved everyone who has ever sought to master it. Jedi, Sith—it doesn't matter. They've all been trapped by it, limited by their own belief in its will. But me?" She turned her head slightly, glancing back at him. "I will shatter that illusion. I will take the Force itself and bend it to my will. Not as a servant, not as a vessel—but as its master."

Serina's expression hardened, her blue eyes glinting with a mix of ambition and defiance. "You said the Force is conflict. Then I will break the conflict. I will dominate it, enslave it, and in doing so, I will achieve what no Jedi, no Sith, no supposed master of destiny ever has. I will not just rise above the wheel. I will break it."

Her gaze returned to the Fount of the Slave, and she began to walk again, her steps purposeful and unyielding. "You speak of inevitability," she added, her voice steady but cold. "But destiny, like the Force, is just another shackle waiting to be broken, if destiny is true and mine is to fail, then I will fail no matter what, but if it isn't..." she unleashed a smile that bordered on absolute insanity, a jolt of pure pleasure at even thinking such an evil and debauched thought. "If it isn't, I will enslave not just the Force, not just the galaxy, but everything, everyone, to my very will."

 

[Darth Imperius]

Serina Calis

Her initial defiance was amusing but her words were bearing the mark of truth, a truth long buried and only discovered by very few who walked the path of either Sith or Jedi. Darth Imperius was more than aware of it, he followed it's ideals, covertly before but now he was not giving a single fetch about the shrouds of secrecy towards his final destination.

But Serina would not be ready to hear this. Her defiance was absolute at the moment and before she could realize her potential, she had to understand that the Jedi held no power they could offer to her, that she had to find this power on her own and become bold enough to openly wield it. Convincing her would be fruitless, so instead he would show her. Offer a glimpse at what she could have to pursue her goals.

"You speak of domination, enslavement and breaking your chains. Have you enslaved a sentient being yet, forced your will upon an 'innocent', a defeated enemy, killed in cold blood those that oppose you?"

He needed not to wait for an answer.

"Your words of defiance and grand ambition are just that - words. Equalling and echoing the average Jedi and Sith sentiment of greatness and progress. You cross a little line at a time, maybe it seems significant to you, but it is insignificant in the greater picture. Just as you are bound to be insignificant unless you let it dictate your every move and reason for existence."

His helmet's gaze lingered on her for another moment, witnessing her reaction, her emotions and her response before it turned around and entered the Fount. His steps echoes as he hit solid ground, metal of either deck or walls of the cruiser, the light swiftly fading but not entirely disappearing. Small holes in the entire ship, broken pieces and it's overall condition allowed the bright Lehon sun to pierce into it and maintain a shady existence.

Since his arrival he felt the presence of the Dark side and that it was nearby, for a brief moment he thought it might be the Padawan, but while her spirit was aflame, it was not burning hot enough for that impression. It was something stronger. Or someone. The vision he had drawn out from the aether on Ruusan had been vague, Rakata, the Star Forge and something or someone else were part of it, but it has felt important, intriguing. He had no love or increased interest in Revan's pathetic attempt at a Sith Empire, it was just another ruse by the true Emperor at the time and other than his outlook on apprenticeship, his teachings and achievements had been worthless.

Every step carried them deeper into the wreckage, sometimes down and sometimes steeply upwards, but the figure of Imperius did not seem to have issues with either. Quite the opposite, at times it seemed the ships floor had issues with the weight of Imperius. The floor creaking and screaming in protest under his step.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

Serina Calis watched Darth Imperius stride into the Fount, his words echoing in her mind as her steps brought her cautiously forward. The dim light filtering through the rusted remains of the Leviathan cast long, jagged shadows across the jungle floor, creating an eerie tableau that seemed to breathe with the presence of the Dark Side. Her heart pounded—not with fear, but with the slow, deliberate rhythm of calculated purpose.

His taunts were sharp, meant to provoke. They questioned her resolve, her actions, and her ambitions, attempting to frame them as hollow words. Yet, even as he dismissed her as insignificant, Serina felt no anger, no sting of wounded pride. His underestimation was a gift, one she would use to her advantage.

She stepped onto the broken metal of the wreckage, her boot heels clicking softly against the rusted deck. Her blue eyes, sharp with focus, scanned the surroundings as she followed him deeper into the remains of the Star Forge's legacy. The oppressive energy of the Dark Side wrapped around her like a cloak, whispering temptations and promises of power, but Serina's mind remained steady, her focus absolute.

"I don't need to prove my ambition with reckless acts of cruelty," she finally said, her voice calm but firm, her words carrying through the stillness of the ruined ship. "Domination isn't about brute force or impulsive displays of power. True domination requires precision. Calculation. Control."

Her hands brushed against the cold, rusted walls as she continued forward, feeling the residual energy of the place. She allowed the silence to stretch for a moment, considering her next words. "I have no interest in taking a single step further than I intend, nor in exposing my hand before I am ready. The Jedi Order has taught me many things, and chief among them is the value of perception. They see me as a Padawan, a diligent student with a promising future. That perception is my weapon, and I will wield it until it is no longer useful."

Her voice softened slightly, though the intensity behind it remained. "Every variable must be accounted for, every action calculated. The Jedi are a tool to be leveraged, their trust a shield that allows me to move freely, to study, to learn. And when the time comes, when I have what I need, they will no longer matter. But for now, secrecy is power. The slow steps you scorn are the foundation of my control."

Serina moved with care over the uneven ground, her movements deliberate and fluid, her gaze never lingering too long in one place. "Mistakes," she continued, her tone sharpening, "are born of undue haste. They're the cracks that bring down even the mightiest of empires. You speak of enslaving others, of forcing my will upon them, but what is that if not short-sighted? Enslavement through fear breeds rebellion. It's a flawed approach—temporary, fragile, crude."

Her hand instinctively grazed the holocron hidden in her utility belt, a reminder of the knowledge she had already claimed through patience and subterfuge. "No," she said, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her words almost to herself. "Domination is far more than that. Domination is mastery over every variable. Over the Force, over others, over myself. It's not enough to wield power—I will become power, the source, the center, the axis around which everything turns."

As the floor groaned beneath the weight of Darth Imperius' steps, Serina paused, her eyes drawn to the faint light ahead, filtering through broken hull panels. "You may think my steps insignificant," she said, her voice carrying again, steady and deliberate. "But they are deliberate. Every line I cross, every move I make, every word I speak—it's all calculated. When I finally choose to strike, it will not be a single blow. It will be the culmination of every action, every deception, every piece of knowledge I have ever claimed. And it will be absolute."

She resumed her stride, the sound of her footsteps measured against the groaning of the wreckage. Her blue eyes flickered with an intense focus, the weight of her words punctuated by the calm certainty in her tone. "So, no. I have not enslaved anyone. I have not killed in cold blood. I have not forced my will upon the weak for the sake of proving a point. That isn't control. That isn't power. That's recklessness, chaos—unworthy of my ambition. My steps are slow because they are deliberate. And deliberate steps," she said, her voice taking on an edge of finality, "always reach their destination, my destination..." her smile widened again, as another wave of pleasure came to her, to speak such forbidden words, "Is to dominate all."

She let her words hang in the air, no longer seeking his acknowledgment or reaction. This was her truth, her understanding of what it meant to dominate. As they descended deeper into the wreckage, Serina's resolve solidified. She would walk this path at her own pace, every variable controlled, every obstacle mastered, until there was nothing left to resist her will.

 

[Darth Imperius]

Serina Calis

"You are unbearably naive."

He simply stated. Her potential was locked behind her defiance and denial, the illusion she maintained to make herself feel better, to make herself feel righteous and not lower herself to be among the dirt and rubble of the people she considers disgusting and below her. She would be dragged down from her podest, the feet pulled from under her. Dnd when she realised what the words she so skillfully laid out in her favor, meant in the reality of the Galaxy, she could only hope to find a solace in still being able to look at herself in the mirror.

Or stand above it. Rise beyond the petty words she spoke today in firm belief to be true and her way. That everything turned, twisted and bend the way she wanted to make her little dream come true.

Imperius knew better. He had turned, twisted and bend his actions to comfort his mind, to live his life in service to a greater good only he saw. Only he could achieve. The forgotten tyrant Tacitus, the complacent Empress L'lerim, he had served their vision to annihilate what drove this Galaxy insane, he had seen that only through that it would bring order. And that only his immortal actions could bear the burden of antagonising the Galaxy to destroy the Will of the Force. The ridiculous goal of the Wardens of the Shroud, he was one of them. And he believed in the lies of order, he believed his own lies. He did not anymore though.

His hand came up and as the Dark side manifested through the simply domination of his will into a physical expression, the shut bulkhead in front of them crumbled and shattered. It was folded into itself, durasteel and titanium bend to the will of a person who did understand what control, domination and fate meant.

"Nature is conflict. The Force is conflict. Conflict is chaos. Make no mistake in your ivory definitions that nature will behave the way you believe it will unless you bend it to your will."

"Nor assume certain angles. You speak of measure and calculation, yet I can feel that it is an ambitious drive which propels you, something or someone is influencing you already. I take control of this not because I am too important, but because I can and deem it worthy of my time. I do not relinquish control of my operations for it, nor neglect my ambitions, on the contrary. Why are you here? What do you pretend to have as calculated reason to be here?"

"How do you think your sudden demise at my hands would play into your deliberate domination and avoidance of recklessness?"

He stepped through the broken bulkhead, his mind scanning ahead as it looked for both the way and clues as to what the wreckage might hold as secrets.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

Serina's lips curled into a faint, venomous smile as Darth Imperius's towering form stepped through the shattered bulkhead. The display of his power, folding durasteel and titanium as though they were parchment, was as much a statement as his words—an assertion of dominance, a taunt meant to strip her of the composure she worked so hard to maintain.

But Serina was no stranger to such tactics. She had spent years navigating the currents of manipulation, both subtle and overt, within the Jedi Order. She recognized his attempts to unnerve her, to force her to doubt her path. Instead of recoiling, she found herself leaning into the moment, embracing the challenge with the poise of someone who knew exactly how to wield her words like a blade.

As the echoes of the destroyed bulkhead faded, she followed him through the opening, her steps light but deliberate, her blue eyes glinting in the dim light. "Unbearably naive?" she repeated, her voice soft, almost amused, but laced with a razor's edge. "You wound me. Such harsh judgments from someone who doesn't even know my name."

Her golden hair caught the faint light filtering through the fractured hull, framing her face with an almost ethereal glow. "You're right about one thing," she continued, her tone shifting into something teasing, laced with flirtatious defiance. "Ambition propels me. Always has, always will. And perhaps I've been influenced—haven't we all? A whisper here, a temptation there. Even you, with all your displays of power and certainty, were shaped by something greater than yourself."

She paused, letting her words linger in the air as her gaze swept over the broken corridors ahead. Then she turned to face him, her smirk widening as she tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping to a silky tone. "But you misread me, my enigmatic companion. You see, I've never pretended to be above ambition, nor have I denied the influence of those who came before me. I simply... appreciate the art of it. The game. The dance."

Serina took a step closer, the sound of her boots against the metal floor echoing softly. "As for my calculated reason for being here?" She let the question hang for a moment, as if savoring the tension. "It's quite simple, really. I came for answers. Knowledge. Secrets buried in the wreckage of the past. A little like you, perhaps." Her smile turned sharper, her tone teasing. "Or am I wrong? Are you here to... sightsee?"

Her hand rested lightly on the hilt of her lightsaber, not in preparation for combat, but as a casual, almost playful gesture. "And my sudden demise at your hands?" she added, her voice dropping to a whisper, dripping with venomous charm. "Well, that would be a tragedy. I daresay we've only just begun to understand one another. Killing me now would rob you of the satisfaction of proving me wrong. And it would rob me of the... pleasure of continuing this delightful conversation."

She stepped past him, her movements fluid and confident, casting a sidelong glance at his imposing figure. "But, if you insist on being so impatient, you may as well strike now. Otherwise, I suggest we focus on what lies ahead. After all, you did deem this worthy of your time. And who am I to argue with such a distinguished figure?"

Her words hung in the air, equal parts challenge and allure, as she continued down the corridor, her steps echoing softly. Serina had no intention of revealing the depths of her plans, nor would she allow him to unsettle her with his dismissive judgments. She would play this game on her terms, bending the rules to suit her ambitions—one deliberate, venomous step at a time.

Everything was calculated.

 

[Darth Imperius]

Serina Calis

Darth Imperius looked at her. His enigmatic gaze of crimson lenses offering no insight to his facial expressions or emotions, but somehow it transmitted a sense of doubt and amusement.

"Are you talking to convince me? Or to convince yourself?"

He did not consider his interpretations wrong or flawed, nor did he really care what she responded for he was aware of what she already had said and revealed. That was enough to him and plenty to see, not interpret, but see. She carried her heart on her tongue and despite some shreds of secrets she kept hidden, it was her purest self that was babbling away, probably being allowed to do so for the first time in her life, with what she should perceive as her natural, mortal enemy.

And she thought that provocations were the way to go, way to defend herself from harm or make fun of the fact that it was in his power. She thought that reason and logic dominated, that her wit and measure would make her outlast the consequences the Galaxy would push on her. He did not share her belief in cheap defences. In a previous life he would have taken insult from her insolence, but now, he did not, he was not bothered by it. What made him do what he did, was the denial of threat and the necessity of conflict.

Serina certainly felt the sudden surge in energies, just similar to what he had used to crush the bulkhead, giving her plenty of warning if she had paid attention to both her surroundings and in her classes. It was not his intention to kill her, but to show her the true nature of what she was looking at, dealing with and would be facing in the life she chose.

The lightning came as burst of hissing electrical energy, unleashed from his right gauntlet, its blue-purple color sparking and crossing the distance between them in an instant. It contained some kinetic energy as well, wholly capable of pushing someone if it was not blocked or deflected properly. But it was not a petty attempt of a punishment or scolding, it was a mask, a diversion for his lightsaber igniting and him following the blinding lightning with an unnatural swiftness to strike at her.

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

​

Serina barely had time to register the surge of Dark Side energy before the lightning struck her. The burst of searing, crackling energy overwhelmed her senses, her body convulsing as the force of it sent her reeling backward. Pain exploded through her, every nerve aflame, her vision narrowing to a tunnel of blinding blue-purple light. The kinetic energy threw her against the jagged wall of the wreckage, metal scraping her back as she crumpled to the ground. Her breath came in ragged gasps, the acrid scent of ozone filling her lungs.

The world blurred around her, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. Her lightsaber lay just out of reach, its polished hilt glinting faintly in the dim light. She clawed weakly at the ground, trying to orient herself, but before she could regain her bearings, the hum of a lightsaber filled the air—a sound that carried with it the promise of death. She turned her head just in time to see the crimson blade descending toward her.

She died.

And then, almost immediately, something shifted. The Dark Side surged around her, the holocron in her possession began to glow, as if it was a conduit for a terrible ritual. Amidst the chaos, a voice rang out—deep, commanding, and impossibly familiar.

"Rise, Padawan."

Darth Malak's voice reverberated in her mind, cutting through the agony like a blade. It was calm, assured, but tinged with a forceful urgency.

"Is this how you fall? Struck down before you've even begun to seize what is yours? You are stronger than this. You are mine. My legacy. My heir. You have but to claim it."

As the lightsaber descended, Serina's hand shot out, not toward her weapon, but toward the surge of Dark Side energy enveloping her. The pain in her body dulled, replaced by a cold, searing power that spread through her veins. Her wounds began to mend, not completely, but enough to dull the agony and allow her to rise. Her blue eyes, now tinged with an unnatural intensity, locked onto the Sith Lord before her.

"You hesitate," Malak's voice continued, his tone a mixture of command and encouragement. "And in that hesitation, you risk losing everything. But listen—can you hear it? The Dark Side speaks to you. It knows what you are, what you can be. You are destined for greatness, Serina. Rise and claim it."

And then, like a tidal wave, the Dark Side itself, the entity, the malign presence, evil incarnate, crashed into her mind. Thousands of voices whispered, screamed, chanted all at once, a cacophony of promises and truths, The entirety of the history of the dark side etched itself into her mind, almost completely overwhelming her mind if not for its assistance, from the first dark act committed by sapience to her being struck down, all of it flashed before her, screams, death and evil itself showing its face fully. Finally, the darkness of the void became present. The voices continued, the words overwhelming, threatening to consume her entirely, but amidst the storm, she could discern their message.

"Thrice you shall be struck down and thrice you shall be brought back up."

"One shall bear the pain of acceptance, one shall bear the pain of loss."

"But the last shall free you."

"You are more than a Jedi. More than a Sith. You are power. You are control. You are destiny."

"You will succeed where they failed. You will break the wheel, shatter the cycle, and bend the Force itself to your will."

"This is your moment, Serina Calis, Heir of Malak, Corruptor of the Light, Mistress of the Dark."

"Rise, or fall into nothingness."

She was no longer Serina Calis, Padawan of the Jedi Order.

Serina clenched her jaw, her trembling hands steadying as she pushed herself to her feet, Imperius must have realized at this point that at any other time of day, any other time of night, Serina should of died. The pain still lingered, but it no longer mattered. Her body screamed in protest, her muscles weak, but she stood tall, her golden hair disheveled, her robes torn. She was battered, but not broken.

But now she now bore the pain of acceptance, that she was weak, that she was nothing to the galaxy. Whether the message was a lure of the Dark Side, or the words of prophecy, she would find out later.

 

[Darth Imperius]

Serina Calis

Any other day, any other location, the surge of the Dark side he would have interpreted as his own, the strength and raw power being his own that he could bend to his will and forge to actions of unspeakable greatness. It was his to command and it was his to claim, it was why he was here, why the vision he carved out of the Force led him here. But it was not him. Nor was it bend to the will of the one who wielded it. It came to her rescue, to her resurrection.

He withdrew the blade as soon as it made lethal contact, his eyes narrowing in disappointment at first, then in wonder and curiosity. What had just happened? He could not only feel her, but the Leviathan and something else. Someone else again. It was on her, around her, in her. His blade lowered to his side, still activated, still ready to bring down whatever he had awakened himself.

Now Darth Imperius considered his options. If this one had some protection or even spirit in her, it would be no use to test or teach her, her defiance would continue to reign supreme by the simple fact of an unreasonable immortality. To commend her, was equaling the applause for complacency and lack of control. To try to destroy her was a viable option for an immediate threat, but considering her apparent weakness, she did not pose any, but the spirit or whatever fueled her life, did. Or it could become a source of great influence and power.

His voice was riddled with the absence of any impression or notion of what had just occured. It was the same calm and measured tone she had conversed with since the beginning of their unlikely companionship.

"What is your name?"

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

​

Serina stood there, her form silhouetted against the backdrop of the dark chamber, the faint light flickering off the shards of her resolve reborn in the shadows. The physical pain was a distant echo now, overshadowed by the profound, overwhelming influx of dark energy that had coursed through her, reshaping her destiny. She regarded Darth Imperius, her gaze sharpening with a newfound clarity, her voice steady yet filled with a raw, untempered power.

"My name is Serina Calis," she began, her voice resonating with a depth that seemed to echo the very whispers of the Dark Side. "But it seems, perhaps, that name now carries more than just a legacy of the Jedi or a fleeting path of the Sith. It carries a destiny shaped by the Dark Side itself."

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she recalled the torrent of voices, the surge of power that had not just saved her, but claimed her in a moment of absolute vulnerability. "When you struck me down, something awakened, or perhaps it intervened. The Dark Side... it spoke to me, not as a force to be wielded, but as a path to be walked, dominated, and commanded."

Serina's hands clenched at her sides, the remnants of energy crackling faintly around her fingers. "It said, 'Thrice you shall be struck down and thrice you shall be brought back up. One shall bear the pain of acceptance, one shall bear the pain of loss. But the last shall free you. You are more than a Jedi. More than a Sith. You are power. You are control. You are destiny. You will succeed where they failed. You will break the wheel, shatter the cycle, and bend the Force itself to your will.'"

Her voice grew firmer, more assured with each word, as if speaking them aloud solidified their truth within her. "I don't fully understand yet, not all of it. But I know this—I owe my life to the Dark Side now. It has chosen me, saved me for a purpose greater than any I had imagined. Whether it is prophecy or manipulation, it has marked a path that I cannot ignore."

She took a step forward, her posture one of defiance mixed with intrigue. "I have been chosen to not just walk within the shadows but to shape them. To bend the Dark Side, perhaps even dominate it. I stand here now, not just as Serina Calis, but as someone who has touched a power so vast that it defies the very cycle of life and death."

The chamber around Serina seemed to dissolve as a sudden, vivid vision gripped her senses. She found herself no longer in the dimly lit confines of their current location, but aboard the Star Forge, the massive space station pulsing with dark energy and chaotic power. The walls around her hummed with the force of a thousand souls, its corridors echoing with the cries of battle and the clash of lightsabers.

She was there, a silent observer to the final showdown between Darth Malak and Revan, two titans of the Force whose destinies were intertwined with betrayal and redemption. The stark, metallic environment of the Star Forge served as a cold, unyielding backdrop to Malak's last stand. The air was thick with the smell of scorched metal and ozone, the remnants of countless duels and the electrical discharge of damaged consoles.

Malak, towering and imposing even in his final moments, faced Revan with the defiance of a fallen king. His armor, once a gleaming testament to his power, was battered and scorched, testament to the ferocity of their battle. The red glow of his lightsaber cast sinister shadows across his face, highlighting the resolve and desperation etched deeply into his features.

As the duel reached its crescendo, Revan's blade found its mark, and Malak staggered back, a fatal blow that sealed his fate. In those last moments, as he leaned heavily against the machinery that had once amplified his power, there was a profound sadness in his eyes—a recognition of his own failure and the futility of his ambitions.

"...in the end, as the darkness takes me... I am nothing," Malak whispered, his voice a broken echo in the vast emptiness of the Star Forge. The words were filled with a haunting resignation, acknowledging not just his physical defeat, but the spiritual emptiness that accompanied his fall from grace.

Serina felt the weight of those words deep in her soul, as if Malak's final confession resonated with the darkness within her own heart. For a fleeting moment, she too felt the chilling grasp of oblivion, the terrifying prospect of being consumed by the very power she sought to dominate. She finally accepted, right now, in her current state, she was nothing.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the vision shattered, snapping back to the grim reality of the chamber she stood in. She repeated Malak's last words aloud, her voice hollow, echoing off the stone walls, seemingly unaware of Imperius's presence for that brief moment. Finally, she awoke from her slumber.

"I just saw it, the Star Forge, Revan, Malak."

 

[Darth Imperius]

Serina Calis

"In order to create, one must destroy." His voice faintly remarked, almost prophetically. Now certainly prophetically in hindsight of the recent happenings in front of him. He listened to her elaboration as he had listened before, though it was accompanied by what would seem like the approach of a thunderstorm. It was the smell of rain, the tense and dense air and dark clouds forming at the horizon. The Dark Lord seemed to be brooding, a lingering malice, silent and yet swallowing the place.

"The Dark side does not grant second chances, it does not offer relief or trade power for nothing. You have entered a pact, a circle of strife and fall that will dictate your life and death. Use it and accomplish what you claim to seek, fail and it will blind you, deafen you and kill all purpose of your existence."

And he was about to continue, to tell her what she was granted, foolishly gifted by her patron. But her presence and attention faded, it collapsed as it was replaced by another sensation of surging destiny. Another spike of the Dark side that pulsated from her mind and presence. It almost drove Imperius to obliterate her petty being there and now, the feeling of fury towards this inconsequential padawan stacking up more and more hatred and wrath for its comparatively marginal self.

It was as if someone with power over the elements tried to bend a hurricane to their will, redirect lightning or tame a volcano. And succeeded. Darth Imperius stood there, unmoved, motionless like a statue carved from dark marble, his being a maelstrom of passion and emotions that was bend, bowed and put into its place adding to singularity that powered his failing heart and energised his decaying body.

"A vision." The words were forced, but quickly regained his typical intonation. "The Star Forge's remnants are here, just like the remnants of Malak. Revan was ultimately killed on the moon of Yavin. They are dust, un-" He paused, the eyes narrowing at the coincidence of the location, of the person, of the unknown presence, the vision and words. "Who has guided you here? You hold a connection to one of them, do you not?"

 

[Serina Calis]

Location: Rakata Prime, Star Forge wreckage, in front of the entrance to the 'Fount of the Slave'.
Tag: Darth Imperius

​

Serina's breathing steadied as the final echoes of her vision faded, leaving her standing in the dim chamber, surrounded by the oppressive weight of the Dark Side. Her golden hair clung to her face, damp from the exertion and the humid air, but her piercing blue eyes burned with a newfound clarity. The gravity of Darth Imperius' words hung in the air, but it was his final question that sent a shiver of realization through her.

Who had guided her here? The question was layered, probing. He already knew the answer—or at least suspected it. Serina chose her words carefully, weaving them with the venomous charm she had mastered, each syllable deliberate, every breath calculated.

"Guidance," she began, her voice low and steady, tinged with a faint, mocking amusement, "is a concept for those too blind to see the path laid before them. I was not guided here. I was called. And perhaps that call was not one of intent but inevitability."

Her hands relaxed at her sides, though faint tendrils of the Dark Side still flickered around her fingertips. She turned her head slightly to regard Darth Imperius, her gaze locking with his, undeterred by the soulless red glow of his lenses. "You're correct," she continued, her tone sharpening like a blade. "There is a connection—a tether to something far greater than either of us. It's not a mere presence, but a legacy. One that does not simply guide; it claims."

She paced a step closer, the sound of her boots against the cracked metal floor deliberate, reverberating in the hollow chamber. "When I touched the holocron, when I sought answers to questions the Jedi dare not ask, I did not realize I was inviting something far more... substantial. Malak's voice was the first I heard. His words resonate still. But what saved me here, what brought me back from death, was not just Malak."

Serina stopped, her gaze narrowing slightly as she felt the lingering presence of the vision. Her voice dropped to a near whisper, though it carried with it the weight of undeniable truth. "It was the Dark Side itself. It chose me, laid claim to me. And Malak's voice is but one thread in a tapestry of countless others—some ancient, some forgotten. He calls me his heir, but the truth is far more profound. I am not a mere vessel for his ambitions. I am not a continuation of his failure, I take his strengths."

Her voice rose slightly, her conviction growing stronger. "Whatever I am now, whatever connection I hold, it is no longer about him. It is about me. My destiny. My domination. Malak's shadow is not my prison—it is my foundation. And this vision, this... Star Forge, it's not a relic to be revered. It's a monument to what I will achieve where he faltered, where he intended to conquer with the ancient, I will conquer with the new."

She took another step forward, her tone softening but losing none of its edge. "So, who guided me here? Perhaps it was Malak, or perhaps it was the Force itself, that eternal cycle of conflict you claim to embrace. But make no mistake, Sith. My path does not follow his, nor does it tread upon yours. I will forge my own way, and when I am done, the echoes of this moment will be nothing but the prologue to something far greater."

"Now, with the distractions out of the way, let us continue into the Font."

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, her posture unwavering, her gaze piercing. She would build of his legacy, succeed where he failed, mark his name with absolute fear once again.

Scion of Malak​